Chapter One: Traitor, slap that rebel for Me!

“Wretched girl! Your mother’s body is not yet cold, and you dare to make such a clamor here, utterly devoid of filial piety!”

With this thunderous roar, a stinging slap landed hard across Ye Qingyan’s face.

Pain exploded—fiery and sharp—on her left cheek, spreading instantly to her scalp. Her ears rang, and the force of the blow sent her staggering sideways into the cold wooden pillar of the mourning hall.

The dull thud as the back of her head struck the post jarred a trace of clarity back into her muddled mind.

“Who am I? I am… Jiang Tan.”

A corporate wage slave, just off another late shift and complaining about her demanding client. Yet now, she found herself in this ancient, somber mourning hall.

Before her stood a middle-aged man in brocade robes, his face livid with anger, hand still raised high.

This was the original body’s father, Ye Chengzong—the current Deputy Minister of Revenue. A man who had the words “sanctimonious hypocrite” etched into his very bones.

“Please calm yourself, my lord. Elder Sister has just passed, and Yan’er is heartbroken. Don’t let your anger harm your health,”

A gentle, soothing female voice sounded. A delicate, boneless hand clasped Ye Chengzong’s arm.

Jiang Tan looked toward the voice and saw a beautiful woman in plain dress, eyes brimming with concern—though a hint of smugness lurked in her brows.

This was her father’s favored concubine, Wang Feifei—her so-called “Aunt.”

What a delicate, pitiful white lotus.

Behind Wang Feifei, a young woman of similar age stepped forward. She too wore mourning attire, but her face was twisted with open mockery and gloating. “Sister, you can’t blame Father for being angry. The way you looked just now—like you were about to eat someone—was truly frightening.”

This was her half-sister, Ye Qinglian. Three “family members”—not a genuine heart among them.

At that moment, a torrent of memories, not her own, flooded Jiang Tan’s mind like a bursting dam.

The original owner was Ye Qingyan, the legitimate eldest daughter of the Ye family. Her mother, Lady Shen, came from a prestigious southern clan, bringing a generous dowry when she married into the family. Yet she suffered years of neglect and abuse at Ye Chengzong’s hands.

Wang Feifei and her daughter were like parasites, constantly sowing discord and eroding everything Lady Shen had.

In the end, Lady Shen perished from long years of oppression and illness.

Today, the day of her mother’s burial, the original Ye Qingyan, in grief and indignation, sought justice for her mother and questioned her father’s heartlessness.

But the moment she spoke, Ye Chengzong branded her “unfilial” and struck her down.

That pitiable, deliberately ruined and timid legitimate daughter was beaten to death by her own father! The humiliation, grief, and overwhelming hatred belonging to the original owner burned Jiang Tan’s soul like a hot iron.

She was no longer a bystander. She was Ye Qingyan.

She raised her head abruptly, and in what had been dull, lifeless eyes, two flames of vengeance blazed to life.

Her gaze pierced through the false concern of Wang Feifei and the gloating of Ye Qinglian, fixing unerringly on the cold face of Ye Chengzong.

This was the man who had killed her mother. These people had destroyed everything.

Rage flooded her heart; her hatred surged like a tide.

[Ding! Host’s spirit of defiance detected! My empire… cough, your vengeance, is permitted!]

A majestic, domineering male voice—tinged with impatience—suddenly exploded in her mind.

[Tyrant System “First Emperor Ying Che” successfully bound!]

A system? And a tyrant at that? Ye Qingyan—no, Jiang Tan—was utterly bewildered.

What kind of start was this? Just transmigrated, slapped in the face, and saddled with a system that sounded downright dangerous?

Ying Che? Wasn’t that the founding emperor of this dynasty—known for uniting the land with an iron fist and remembered in history for his ruthless tyranny?

Wasn’t he long dead? How had he become her system?

She hadn’t even digested this tidal wave of information when Ye Chengzong, seeing her glare at him with a hatred he’d never seen before—instead of begging for mercy—grew even more enraged.

“Wretch! You dare glare at me? Clearly, one slap wasn’t enough!” Ye Chengzong roared, raising his hand again, this time with force enough to split the air, aiming for Jiang Tan’s other cheek.

If that blow landed, with this frail body, she’d likely follow in the original’s footsteps.

No! She would not be slaughtered like a lamb.

In that split second, the tyrant’s voice thundered in her mind, heavy with imperial command, as if an imperial edict had been handed down to her very soul.

[Imperial decree—Traitor! Slap down the rebel before you, revive the majesty of the throne!]

“Traitor?” Jiang Tan almost laughed out loud from anger. Did this system really think itself an emperor, appointing her as a traitor?

But the pressure emanating from her soul left her body no choice but to respond.

A strange surge of strength flooded her arm. On instinct, she raised her hand and lunged toward Ye Chengzong’s incoming slap.

“Get away from me!” she roared, her voice hoarse.

She was a long-suffering office worker, her health already poor, and the original owner’s body was even feebler. The furious swing of her arm was soft, utterly devoid of force.

Her wrist slipped, the angle skewed.

A crack—sharper and louder than before—rang through the mourning hall.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Ye Chengzong’s raised hand halted midair, his face stupefied.

Wang Feifei’s false smile turned rigid, her mouth falling open.

Off to the side, Ye Qinglian, who’d been enjoying the spectacle, was clutching her rapidly swelling cheek, her eyes wide as saucers.

“Did I… miss?”

Jiang Tan looked at her reddened palm, then at the stunned Ye Qinglian, her mind racing. The room was petrified.

In the dead silence, Wang Feifei recovered first. Seeing the five vivid finger marks on her daughter’s face, she let out a shrill scream. “Ye Qingyan, you’re insane! How dare you strike your own sister!”

She rushed to Ye Qinglian, fussing over her daughter’s cheek. “Master! Look at her! She’s turned against heaven itself! Striking her sister—she’s utterly without respect or shame!”

Ye Chengzong snapped back to his senses. Confronted with this out-of-control scene, he trembled with rage, pointing a shaking finger at Jiang Tan. “You… you unfilial wretch!”

To strike a half-sister was a far graver crime than defying her father.

In this society, where the difference between legitimate and illegitimate children meant everything, such an act would brand her as a jealous, immoral shrew—her fate all but sealed.

What to do? She had no power or influence—resisting openly was a path to death.

Beg for mercy? Even worse—it would only fuel their abuse.

In that instant, an idea flashed through Jiang Tan’s mind.

Madness? Yes—go mad!

She glanced at her reddened palm, and her gaze grew vacant. The corners of her mouth twisted into a strange, foolish grin.

“Hehehe…”

She laughed, her eyes empty as she swept her gaze over the stunned onlookers.

“Crazy? Yes, I’m mad! I’ve finally lost my mind!” She laughed as she staggered forward a few steps, reaching out as if grasping for something invisible.

“Mother… is that you come back?” Her voice turned mournful and eerie, echoing through the silent hall, sending chills down everyone’s spines.

“Mother, don’t go… Was it you who pushed me just now? You said… you said you’d smash the mouths of those who hurt you… didn’t you?”

She turned, her hollow gaze locking onto Ye Qinglian’s ashen face, her smile growing more twisted. “Sister, does it hurt? Mother said your mouth deserved it most… She said you and Auntie are both full of filth…” As she spoke, the temperature in the hall seemed to plummet.

Wang Feifei and Ye Qinglian blanched instantly, their eyes filled not only with fury, but with naked terror and guilt.

Ye Chengzong, watching his daughter’s deranged ramblings and wild laughter, felt his anger give way to a complex mix of suspicion and dread. “Could it be… she’s truly lost her mind from grief? Or… is there something unclean lurking in this mourning hall?”